Finding Identity Beyond Success

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFYdhSuwUX0

Second Reading

A READING FROM THE FIRST LETTER OF PETER

Like newborn infants, long for the pure, spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow into salvation if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God's sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For it stands in scripture: "See, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious; and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame." To you then who believe, he is precious; but for those who do not believe, "The stone that the builders rejected has become the very head of the corner," and "A stone that makes them stumble, and a rock that makes them fall." They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do. But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

1 PETER 2:2-10

Sermon: The Rev. Dr. Maryann Amor

Last weekend, I went to see the new film about Michael Jackson that was just released in theatres. The film is a biopic and it shows a more positive view of Michael, cutting out much of the controversy that surrounded his career. Even so, something about it really stayed with me.

Michael’s father, Joseph, is not portrayed positively. He is shown forcing his sons to practice singing, even when they just want to be kids. In one powerful scene, he whips a young Michael with his belt, and Michael runs to the washroom, and huddles on the floor, crying.

What is driving Joseph’s actions is the desire to make sure his children don’t end up stuck in the life he knows. That they don’t end up living in Gary, Indiana, working a dead-end job, or caught in cycles of poverty, addiction, or violence. Of course, this doesn’t justify his actions, but it does help us understand them.

However, as the film unfolds, it also hints that once success happens, the pressure doesn’t really disappear. It shifts and becomes about maintaining it. Growing it. Being known and remembered.

And this reveals something very human: a deep desire not just to survive, or even to succeed—but to feel like our lives matter in some way.

Joseph wanted this for his children and it happened -- his son became one of the most well-known figures in the history of music. And while most of us will never reach that level of fame, we carry a similar kind of desire in different ways.

The search for significance isn’t something we might necessarily name directly. We don’t usually wake up and think, “I need to be remembered.” But there is something in how we live that points to it. We try to grow in our work. We build families. We invest in our gifts and skills. We pursue education. We hope that what we do will matter, even if only to a few people. Because the idea of being forgotten entirely can feel unsettling.

And maybe that’s where Michael’s story starts to touch ours. Because whether our lives look big or small from the outside, many of us are still, in some way, asking that same question: does my life actually matter?

But what if the search for significance is the wrong place to begin? What if it’s not something we have to achieve—but something we have already been given?

In today’s second reading we heard from 1 Peter, who is writing to a group of people who likely felt small, scattered, and on the margins. They were not the powerful. They were not the ones shaping culture or being celebrated.

And to them, the author does something interesting. He doesn’t tell them to work harder, become more impressive, or earn their place in the world. He tells them who they already are: “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people…Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”

As the author speaks to his people, he also speaks to us. He is telling us that whatever we might think about ourselves—however insignificant we might feel for whatever reason—too old or too young, not the right size or shape, not the right background, not what the world seems to value—none of that is what defines us.

Because according to 1 Peter, our identity does not come from the world at all. As the author says: We are already a chosen people. A royal priesthood. A holy nation. God’s own. Not because of anything we have done, or achieved, or proven—but because of what God has done for us.

Before we ever try to become something, we are claimed, given worth, given belonging, mercy. And that shifts everything.

Because if this is true, then our value and significance do not depend on what the world says about us. It is not based on how much money we have, or whether we are successful, or whether anyone remembers us after we are gone. It is not based on recognition, or accomplishments, or whether our life looks impressive.

All of those things come and go. But our identity, the one God has given to us, that is what remains.

And the author of 1 Peter doesn’t stop there. He tells us why we are given this identity: “…in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.”

In other words, this isn’t just something we hold onto quietly for ourselves. It is something we are meant to live out, and share.

We do that when we gather for worship—when we name who God is, and what God has done. We carry that out into the world in the way we speak, in the way we treat others, in the way we see people who feel overlooked or forgotten.

Because if what 1 Peter says is true of us—that we are chosen, and loved, and given worth—then it is, in some way, also true of everyone else.

So part of our calling is to remind others of that. Not necessarily with big acts, but in small ways...noticing people, valuing them, speaking and acting in ways that reflect the mercy we have received.

The world will continue to tell us that our value is something we have to earn. That we have to become more, achieve more, prove more. That we should aim to be great, aspire to have the fame, the wealth, the accolades of people like Michael Jackson...you know, the people the world tells us really matter.

But 1 Peter shows something different. It tells us that, in God, we matter already.

God has chosen us, God loves us, and God has made us part of something holy, something life-giving.

And from this place—not striving for significance, but resting in the significance we already have—we are sent out into our broken world to live, to speak, and to remind others that the same is true of them. We are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people—even if there is no biopic made about us. Amen.